Better Than Fiction
by GhostInTheBAU
Summary: "...W-What?" he gasped, his eyes quickly scanning the words in front of him. "It, it can't be," he shook his head in disbelief, mumbling under his breath, "Is this...is this porn? Did Garcia write porn...about me?" Penelope Garcia has a naughty little hobby, and Reid's lucky enough to stumble upon it. He and Hotch may never be the same again. Pure SMUT.


**_Warnings : Explicit Sexual Content, Slash, Plot what Plot/Porn without Plot, PWP, Smut, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Rough Sex, Wall Sex, Suit Porn, Masturbation, Barebacking, Dirty Talk, Top!Hotch, Bottom!Reid, NSFW_**

 ** _Rating:_** _EXPLICIT_

 _Aaron Hotchner/Spencer Reid_

 _Part of my **All Night Long On My Bed** series._

* * *

 **BETTER THAN FICTION**

.

"Reid, why don't you have Garcia look up that information, then we can head out to lunch," Aaron instructed, glancing away from the papers littering the desk to meet his gaze, one side of his mouth quirked up ever so slightly.

Spencer's heart always seemed to skip a beat whenever the other man looked at him like that—with that tiny little hint of a smile that softened his usually stoic features. He was happily coming to realize that that particular look was just for him alone.

"Sure thing, Hotch." He gave Aaron a grin of his own, then turned and quickly ducked out of the bullpen.

As Reid walked down the corridors of the BAU, he couldn't help the thoughts of his boss from lingering in his mind, or the smile that curved his lips from growing wider. The two of them had only been seeing each other in a romantic capacity for about a month—or...well...34 days, 7 hours and 28 minutes to be exact—but he was learning new things about Aaron every single day, and he was loving every minute of it.

Quite honestly, he wanted to discover absolutely everything there was to know about the older man.

He wanted to become an expert in all things Aaron Hotchner.

He tried to wrangle his thoughts and school his expression as he came up on Garcia's lair, then softly knocked on the door before easing into the colorful tech's office.

"Hey Garcia, I need you to look up all the red Ford Fiestas that have been purchased in the area over the last six months..." His voice trailed off as he looked up and realized he was talking to an empty room. "Garcia?" he asked once more, eyes darting around the eccentric space in search of his teammate. There was no sign of her, so he assumed she'd probably already left for lunch. He was about to head back out himself when his gaze landed on the bank of sleeping computers on display atop the desk, surrounded on all sides by cute little knick knacks and shiny baubles. "I suppose I could try to look it up myself," he mumbled, chewing anxiously on his lip as he took a seat in Garcia's chair.

He didn't know how successful he would actually be in attempting to get the information himself, given his sordid history with all things technological.

Hesitantly, he turned on the center monitor and was immediately greeted by an open word document.

He felt his jaw involuntarily drop when he read the title:

…..

…..

Sexual Profiling: The Erotic Awakening of a Genius

…..

…..

"...W-What?" he gasped, his eyes quickly scanning the words in front of him. "It, it can't be," he shook his head in disbelief, mumbling under his breath, "Is this...is this _porn?!_ Did Garcia write porn...about _me?!"_

…..

…..

The unit chief stalked toward the doe eyed genius with a kind of sinfully obvious lustful intent written in the lines of his chiseled features. An intense desire swirled in his dark chocolate eyes, and the sight had the young man's pulse racing out of his chest.

…..

…..

"Oh god," Spencer whispered, eyes growing wider, "She did. She—She really did. She actually wrote porn about me...and—and _Aaron_. Garcia wrote porn about me and Aaron... _together."_

What the hell?

How did she even know about them? They'd only been on three dates. _Three_ dates! Only made out a handful of times—and that was only in the privacy of one or the other's apartment. At work, they made sure to keep everything between them completely professional. It was all still so very new, and they'd been trying to keep their budding relationship a secret...at least for a while.

Apparently they'd failed in that endeavor because Garcia had obviously figured it out.

Maybe.

Or maybe she just fantasized about it—about _them._

She certainly wouldn't be the first person to dream of workplace romances between coworkers...or so he assumed. He wouldn't put it past her, anyway. Besides, she was constantly flirting with Morgan; she'd probably written _tons_ of stories about him—her 'Chocolate God of Thunder'. That thought was a bit unsettling, but he had to admit that he was also slightly intrigued with what he might find if he read on.

It was at that exact moment that his mind caught up to what he'd already read on the computer, and his brows furrowed.

"Sinfully obvious lustful intent?" he murmured, "Really?"

Paranoid, he looked behind him toward the door, needing to assure himself that he was truly alone.

He had a feeling he probably shouldn't be reading Garcia's story—like, really shouldn't—but for some odd and unknown reason he couldn't bring himself to pull his eyes away from the screen. It was sort of like a horrible car wreck along the side of the road.

He just had to keep looking.

Reluctantly, he continued to read:

…..

…..

Spencer didn't know what he should do in that moment, step closer to the older man—the unit chief, his superior—or shy away from him. He felt like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming truck, one that was barreling down the highway specifically intent on destroying him.

But destroying him in the best way possible; after all, it wasn't as though he didn't _want_ the attention.

On the contrary, honestly.

He'd harbored feelings for his boss for years—a huge crush, in fact—but he'd never in a million years thought anything would actually come of it. It was just a fantasy, pure and simple. He never expected anything to happen between the two of them; although, the fantasy always remained safely tucked away inside his head, to be brought out on lonely nights. Nights when he required a bit of help with frustration and stress relief.

But that was all it was—a wild, masturbatory fantasy.

That's all it could ever be.

There was no way on earth the gorgeous, beautiful, strong, dominating Aaron Hotchner would ever be interested in someone like him at all—a skinny, shy, awkward _nerd._

They were complete opposites.

Right?

He really never thought he'd stand a chance with the man.

But he also never thought he'd see Hotch staring at him the way he was right now—dark, lust-blown eyes raking hungrily over his body, undressing him mentally. It was definitely throwing him for quite a loop, the intensity of the heated gaze tying his mind and his stomach up in knots.

He was so lost in his thoughts on the matter that he didn't notice when Hotch quickly closed the distance between them, pushing his back into the wall. He yelped out in surprised startle when he hit the hard surface behind him, only to be silenced by soft, supple lips colliding forcefully with his own; and his eyes opened wide at the sudden and intimate contact. An instant later, however, he closed them and moaned into the warm touch, hands coming up to desperately cling to the other man's broad shoulders. His nails dug into the perfectly tailored suit coat as his boss rocked into him, the rigid line of Hotch's clearly impressive cock pushing against his thigh as he was pinned to the wall.

He gasped at the delicious sensation, heat cascading low as a tongue slid expertly onto his mouth and lapped at every smooth contour within. He let Hotch explore him with tongue and teeth and strong, firm hands. Fingers rubbed along his waist and dipped under his shirt, the skin on skin contact almost scorching. It sent sparks of electricity flitting across his body, the current humming between them, working to heighten their arousal.

Moments later those hands were moving frantically to his belt, beginning to unbuckle it as Hotch pulled away from the devouring kiss. Panting, the man stared at him with dark eyes. "Is this okay with you?" he asked, voice scratchy and strained, begging for consent.

Spencer could hear the desperation in his own voice as he enthusiastically nodded his head. "God, yes," he whined, "Please. It's...it's so much more than okay with me...you don't even know..."

He caught the hint of a smirk on his boss's lips before the belt was pulled from his waist and his slacks were unbuttoned and unzipped, the action quick and unceremonious. The garment easily fell to the floor, followed swiftly by his boxers with the help of his own eager hands, and he found himself standing in front of the older man clad in only his button down, sweater vest and mismatched socks, his cock bobbing and twitching—leaking—filling the air between them with a heady mix of sex and want and need.

They stared each other down for several more seconds, Hotch still fully clothed and both of them panting heavily, before the genius lunged forward to divest the unit chief of his jacket. Before he could get very far, though, his wrists were snatched up, pulling his hands away and moving them down to the man's belt instead.

"The suit stays on," Hotch growled, leaning into Spencer's space once more, licking at the hollow of his neck, "I'm gonna fuck you right here, against the wall, with my suit perfectly in place..."

…..

…..

Spencer whined at the words, trembling as a very erotic visual popped into his mind. A visual of Aaron holding him up...his pale, bare legs wrapped tightly around the man's middle...his hands scratching into soft, raven hair...Hotch's glistening cock the only part of the man exposed as it sunk deep into Spencer's ass...thrusting slowly in and out of him...picking up speed...intensity...heat...fucking him into the wall as he held on for dear life.

He whimpered, a hand automatically shooting down to his crotch to palm his suddenly throbbing dick through the fabric of his pants. His other hand flew to his mouth, stifling a moan as his hips began to cant up, pressing deliciously against the sweet pressure there, heat and pleasure thrumming through every part of him.

He had to get a grip.

The last thing he needed to be doing was masturbating in Garcia's office.

It was so unprofessional.

Taking a few deep, steadying breaths, Spencer calmed himself down enough to look back to the document on display:

…..

…..

"Would you like that, Genius?" Hotch purred, breath hot in his ear, "Would you like me to take you right here? Take everything I want from you? Sink into this beautiful ass of yours and fuck you up against the wall? Hard and fast?"

A hand slid down his side and over the curve of his butt, spreading his cheeks; and then a deft finger found his hole, applying firm yet gentle pressure, just barely pressing forward; and Spencer's knees almost buckled at the feel.

"Hotch—" he gasped as the tip of the digit pushed in ever so slightly, "Y-Yes! God, yes...fuck me, Hotch. I want—I w-want you to fuck me, hard and fast...right now— _please!"_

There was a low, devious chuckle, then Aaron was stepping back and diving into his pocket, producing a bottle of lube as though it were a damn stick of gum—a common item to just have on his person at any given moment.

"You—You carry lube with you?" he asked incredulously while watching the man undo his pants.

A second later a beautiful cock, heavy and engorged, dark pink and slick, was freed from its cloth housing; and Hotch began to stroke the wet shaft as lustful eyes bore into Spencer's. The sight was enough to have him almost coming right there, his own neglected dick throbbing with unquestionable desire.

"It never hurts to be prepared," Hotch calmly gave in answer, moving closer.

Reid's lips were claimed once more, Aaron's tongue flicking in and out, and all he could do was let it as he stood there soaking up the attention. Hips rocked into his, silken skin mingling, sending waves of bliss deep into his core as their cocks nuzzled together. He pushed forward, circling his arms around his superior's neck as he entered the inviting heat of Hotch's mouth, tasting coffee and mint on the man's tongue. Large hands tangled in his hair, tugging his head back; teeth nipped at his neck; nails scratched down his spine. He was bombarded by everything, allowing his boss to plunder him as his ass was taken in hand, a growl filling the air.

"Up," Hotch commanded, a rumble against his skin.

He instantly obeyed, feeling Aaron's hands cup his ass cheeks and hoist him up as he wrapped his legs around the man's waist, back still pinned against the wall. He was completely off the ground, relying entirely on Hotch to keep him there—which didn't seem like a difficult task—and that fact just turned him on even more.

Before he could ponder it further, though, he felt a finger squirming around his hole again, cool and slick this time, and his breath hitched when it breached his body.

…..

…..

Spencer had to stop reading again.

He just fucking had to.

He was getting painfully hard and he needed to do something about it.

Something...more.

He hadn't realized his hips had constantly been rocking his clothed arousal into his hand as he'd been reading...massaging it...working it...chasing the growing pleasure and leaving the material and his palm damp from all the excitement; but it just wasn't enough.

It wasn't taking the edge off.

Looking back behind him to ensure he was still alone, he slowly unbuttoned his pants and slid a hand below the waistband of his boxers, the fabric and air inside wet and hot and sticky. He groaned in appreciation as his slender fingers found sweet purchase at the base of his rock hard erection; and encircling the throbbing shaft, he began to slowly stroke up the heated column to the wet and leaking head.

The motion was like heaven to him, and his body cried out in relieved appreciation.

His thumb passed through an ample bead of precum, taking it and smearing it over the soft skin like lotion as he made his way back down the rigid length. Hips rocked up to greet him with every pass, and he worked the sensitive flesh with an expert touch, biting his lip to keep from making too much noise; although, given the situation, it was virtually impossible to remain completely quiet. After all, he _was_ reading one of his most provocative fantasies, a fantasy he'd dreamt of countless times before—being taken roughly by Hotch—and his body was on fire from the visual.

He was fucking masturbating in Garcia's office, for crying out loud!

It was shameless.

And wanton.

And he didn't care in the slightest.

He just wanted to feel, wanted to imagine it was Aaron's callused hand jerking him off instead of his own...Aaron's breath hot on his skin...Aaron's body plastered against him, invading him, claiming him.

As his hand continued to zealously squeeze and twist, he turned his attention back to the words on the monitor, drinking them in with fervor:

…..

…..

"Hotch!" he cried, pleasure and pain mixing in a molten flow low in his belly, "More, please...give me more..."

The long, thick finger pumped in and out of his tight heat, dragging heavily against his inner walls, and he instantly arched into the man he was wrapped around—the man holding him up as though he weighed nothing at all. He tried to push down over the intrusion—needing to feel more, be filled with more, take more.

"Aaron," the unit chief corrected, nipping and licking at Reid's bottom lip as he added a second digit alongside the first and began to twist them, "You're fucking yourself on my fingers, Spencer. I think you can call me Aaron right now."

"Aaron," he whimpered, giving a nod of agreement as his mouth was once more filled with a hungry tongue.

His shirt clung to him, damp from sweat, and he longed to feel Aaron's skin against his own; but a part of him thought that what they were doing was made exponentially more erotic by the simple fact that he was half naked and Hotch was still completely dressed in a perfectly tailored charcoal suit, complete with starched white dress shirt and dark red tie. The only thing he thought could make this scenario even better was if Hotch decided to put on his signature sunglasses as well.

…..

…..

"Fuck," Reid gasped, moaning into the room as his back arched and he bucked into his tightly fisted hand.

He'd never even considered Hotch fucking him while wearing his Ray Bans. That would definitely be a sight to see. He'd have no idea what Aaron was thinking if he had those dark glasses on...no idea about what could be coming next, what to expect.

He was getting ideas off Garcia's story, and fuck if he didn't appreciate her for it.

As he continued his ministrations, the pressure at the base of his cock grew more insistent, and he knew his climax was fast approaching.

He had to keep reading, though.

He had to know what happened next—he _needed_ to know:

…..

…..

Reid grabbed onto the tie around Aaron's neck and yanked as he felt the blunt tip of the man's cock pressing up against him, warm and slick as it nudged at his quivering, needy entrance.

"You want this, Spencer," Hotch teasingly purred against his swollen lips, the sound of heavy breathing and erratic heartbeats filling the air, "Do you want it _in_ you?"

"Oh god...please, Aaron," his body shuddered as Hotch thrust a bit harder against him, the faintest stretch of his hole sending him into a heated frenzy of anticipation. "I want it. God, do I want it," he breathed, bringing his hazy eyes up to meet the lustful gaze fixed on him, "I want you so bad. Want this...want you to give it to me good. Fuck me. Fuck me so hard, Aaron."

There was an animalistic growl as Hotch pushed him harshly against the wall, pressing into him at the same time. The burn was immediate and severe, almost overwhelming as he clawed at Hotch's neck and gripped tight to raven hair. He could feel the head of Aaron's cock sliding it's way in, splitting him, opening him up; and his muscles stretched painfully yet eagerly to accommodate the intrusion. Gravity also did its part, helping him to fall further onto the slick shaft, deepening their physical connection until Hotch was fully sheathed and their groins were slotted perfectly together.

He was stuffed to what felt like overflowing, and they stayed right there while he adjusted...panting and sweating, chests heaving against one another, rapid heartbeats pounding in sync. Soon, though, the pain he was feeling subsided and all Spencer knew was glorious fullness as his body spasmed around Hotch.

"Fuck, you're so tight," Aaron groaned, lapping at his sweat-slick skin.

He really didn't know if he could speak, so he just tightened his arms and legs around the man in a silent reply and request for more.

That seemed to be all Hotch needed because the hot, thick shaft impaling him began to slowly retract itself little by little, in and out, up and down; and he could feel every inch as it slid against his inner walls, the bumps and ridges massaging his insides. His nails dug deep into the nape of Hotch's neck and his head fell back against the wall with a thud as he let out a long, lusty moan; and Aaron's mouth found purchase against his thrumming pulse point, sucking the skin there. Lips, teeth and tongue all worked in harmony, alternating little bites and kisses, and Reid keened as a wave of sweet bliss flew through his body. His own straining cock bobbed between them, hard and begging for friction, leaking precum all over his shirt.

He couldn't find it in himself to care.

After a few minutes Aaron's thrusts became much more forceful, more violent—the man relentlessly fucking him into the wall. The frantic movements sent a spark of pain cascading down his spine as pictures began to fall to the floor with the effort; and all he could think to do was hold on, digging the heels of his feet into the small of Aaron's back and squeezing his thighs tightly around the man's waist as Hotch plowed into him over and over. Strong hands remained firmly affixed to the globes of his bare ass, brutally gripping the soft flesh as the head of Aaron's cock slammed against his prostate, sending jolts of fire coursing through his veins.

The rippling heat terminated in his weeping dick, and his vision blurred.

Pure, white hot pleasure—coupled with the shooting pain—created a heady and alluring mix of neediness that fogged his mind and urged him on.

"Touch yourself," Hotch ground out, his voice raw and ragged, almost pleading, "I wanna feel you come on my cock, Spencer. Wanna feel your body pull me in deeper."

…..

…..

The vision in his mind's eye of Aaron saying something that filthy and provocative to him had Reid picking up the pace of his strokes, gliding fast and furious over wet, silky skin—savoring the feel of every vein and ridge—the motion eased by the slickness of the flesh under his palm. His other had flew back up to his mouth as he continued to arch off the chair, two fingers sliding inside damp heat in an attempt to stifle his growing whimpers; and his eyes greedily roamed back to the heated embrace illuminated on the screen:

…..

…..

Spencer obeyed the order, moving one shaky hand down between their bodies and surrounding himself, vigorously pumping in time with Aaron's thrusts. It didn't take long for his climax to crest, and before he knew it he was exploding, coming in hot streams all over his poor dress shirt.

With a growl Hotch quickened his pace, pounding deep into him, fucking him senseless through his orgasm. He was riding high—every pass of the man's cock expertly striking that mind-blowing sweet spot, milking him for more and prolonging the waves of pleasure that were crashing over him.

Two more massive thrusts was all it took, and then Aaron was pulsing inside him as well, pouring out his thick, hot seed as his teeth met the juncture between Reid's neck and shoulder and bit down... _hard_ —

…..

…..

A muffled scream hurled out of Spencer's throat as he burst forth, coming hard and hot over his hand as a kaleidoscope of colors exploded in his vision. Thick cords of semen shot across his stomach, coating his shirt, making it shimmer against the soft lighting of the computer monitor as he moaned out a breathy litany of praise to his imagined Aaron—the Aaron that had completely wrecked his body in the most sinfully delicious way he thought possible.

He groaned at the sight of the pearlescent liquid covering him as he continued to gently stroke his softening cock, slowly coming down from the ecstasy of the moment. He was sated, breathless and panting, sweat beading his brow and body quivering through beautiful aftershocks.

As he calmed, a fleeting thought that he should print out the story and take it home with him crossed his mind, but quickly vanished when he heard footsteps come up behind him.

"I see you found Garcia's story."

His body instantly tensed at the velvet voice, eyes wide and heart pounding.

Aaron.

Fuck.

Before he could reply, lips were brushing against the shell of his ear and a hand was tangling into his damp hair, gently pulling his head back to expose his throat. Another hand placed heavy pressure on his shoulder, squeezing rather possessively, and the dual sensations sparked renewed interest in his spent cock as heat swirled low in his groin.

"You know, we can make it a reality, Reid," Hotch purred, the words oozing with desire and something else—something more—something deliciously sinful to his ears, "You and I...together. I mean, if you want that."

His mouth went dry as flashes of what they could do to one another ran through his mind—or, more specifically, of what _Hotch_ could do to _him—_ and he couldn't stop the moan that escaped at all the filthy possibilities.

"A-Aaron..." he whimpered, body spun up and trembling as he licked his lips and leaned further back, further into the man's firm touch.

"And I promise you, Spencer," Aaron added with a low whisper, chest rumbling behind him, "I'll make it _so much better_ than fiction..."

There was one last lingering squeeze of his shoulder and tug on his hair, then Hotch was gone, leaving him alone, gasping for breath and shuddering through the final throes of his orgasm.

His addled mind very quickly put two and two together, and he realized that Aaron had to have known about the story because there had been no surprise in his voice at all.

The man had sent him to Garcia's office on purpose.

Aaron had _wanted_ him to read it!

Something about that revelation had him yearning to know exactly what his new lover had in mind.

"Hey...hey Hotch, wait up!" he yelled, grabbing some tissues off the desk, knocking several colorful knick knacks over in his haste.

He wiped up the mess as best he could, tucked himself back into his pants and assured he was decent, then scrambled out of the chair and bolted for the door.

There was only one thing on his mind:

He was bound and determined to hold Aaron to his promise.

.


End file.
